If Misery Needs Company Then So Does Madness
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: Azula ship challenge week 7: An institutionalized Azula is in the middle of a breakdown when she finds herself face to face with an uninvited guest. Zirin, lacking all manners both annoys and entices Azula.


Azula buried her head in her palms, even if she griped her ears and screamed, nothing could drown out the sounds. There were days when it was manageable. Days when all she had to deal with was a cup of apple juice tasting like cherries or something that was supposed to smell like smoke, smelled like resin instead. But then there were days when voices were too loud to hear and too plenty to focus on. They screamed that which made her feel most guilty and that which brought her the most shame. The words from the people who weren't there always seemed to cut the deepest. The words from people who no longer talked to her for real reminded her most vividly of that which she'd lost.

So she would sink deeper and deeper in. Loathing herself for everything she had been and for everything she has become. With a drawn out sob, she beat her fist against the floor and watched it go pink from the impact. An overwhelming desire to smack the ground until her knuckles bled overtook her. Perhaps the physical pain would ease the pain in her head. She punched the floor again, sending a fresh torrent of pain up her arm. It brought tears to her eyes but she did it again. And again, that time with a bitter laugh. Because she deserved it. She deserved to feel pain. She was a monster, it was such common knowledge at this point. Monsters deserved to be hunted and caged. She deserved that too. She slammed her fist into the ground again, this time breaking skin. She couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying as she lie on the floor and curled into a ball.

She wanted the noise to stop. She wanted the pain to go away. She wanted the memories out of her brain.

She wanted, at the very least, someone to understand and to not judge.

Without thinking she screamed, and did so until she could practically feel her throat tear. The staff had long since learned to ignore her. They'd either sedate her or bind her up nice in tight with a strait jacket. Sometimes they would outright ignore her and let her fuss until she wore herself completely down. The other patients had also grown good at ignoring her. They thought her to be ungrateful and spoiled. She couldn't really blame them; she got her own room. It was bigger and had more furniture and things to do. But she trashed it regularly. The way they saw it, she complained the loudest when she had the least to complain about. She hated the lot of them anyways and didn't care if they hated her. She would stay alone in her room until she was allowed to leave the place. She would suffer not in silence, but entirely alone.

She has done it before too; screaming until her vocal chords finally gave out and then some more, until her body grew too weak produce any more hollers.

Her demons seemed to grow louder with each passing moment, until she considered pitching herself from the window. She fell silent and eyed it with a sort of longing, wondering if she had the means to unlatch the bars. Lost in her focus, she didn't hear the footsteps. She didn't realize that she had company until the smell of food met her nose—cinnamon.

"I brought you something." The voice was unwavering and she handed Azula a cinnamon roll without hesitation. Azula thought that the girl must have been here a long time, long enough to have seen some truly wild things. She had to have been, otherwise she would not have approached Azula which such an obvious lack of fear. Or perhaps she simply had no sense of danger. For the girl's display of nerve, Azula accepted the offering. Her prior contemplation forgotten, at least for the moment. The girl tossed a long braid over her shoulder. "I'm Zirin." She didn't offer a hand or any sort of polite formality.

Since Zirin seemed to have no manners of her own Azula asked bluntly, "exactly how long have you been here and what for?"

Zirin shrugged and took a bite of her own cinnamon roll. "I think a little over a year. They said I have 'anger problems that need to be worked on'. The way I see it everyone should be here then, if all it takes to be here is getting a little angry." This time she did hesitate before asking, "and yourself, princess?"

Azula folded her arms over her chest with a sour expression that _should_ have put the conversation to rest. But instead she kept looking at Azula expectantly. When she realized that she wasn't going to get an answer she changed her attack point, "doesn't it bother you that _no one_ has asked you what was wrong." She eyed Azula curiously, "or if you are okay?"

"It doesn't surprise me." Azula answered with a dismissive gesture and then began tucking loose strands of hair back into place.

"No one ever asked me either. It didn't surprise me, but it still stings." Zirin admitted. Without so much as asking, she sat herself down on Azula's bed. The princess' mouth twitched, she was on the edge of telling the girl to learn some manner and kindly piss off. But at the same time she admired the girl's nerve and _some_ part of her wanted the attention. "I always thought it was kind of neat. You being here I mean. No one important ever comes here."

Azula didn't know how to take that; was Zirin implying that she wasn't important or was she honored to know she was in the presence of someone important. Either which way, this girl didn't know how to choose her words carefully.

"I'm surprised no one has tried to talk to you." Zirin continued.

"I kicked a table across the room." Azula pointed out.

Zirin shrugged again, Azula concluded that shrugging must be her favorite gesture. "And I've thrown multiple chairs. They're used to that kind of thing." She yawned and kept talking. "So are you going to tell me what you're here for?"

Azula admired her persistency. "That's not for you to know."

"Oh, okay. I just thought I'd ask before leaping to my own conclusions." Zirin replied, seemingly satisfied with the lack of answer.

This got a bit of a rise out of the princess. "And just what conclusion have you leapt to?"

Choosing her words with as little care as ever, she answered, "I've heard you yelling at no one. I've been under the impression that that's what it is."

Azula pressed her lips together. She wouldn't let the girl know that she'd struck a nerve.

"I've been here for a while now and I've only met one other person who has heard things that weren't there." She fingered her braid. "That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you. That other person is my friend but she doesn't have anyone else. No one understands her…or something like that. I thought maybe I could introduce you to her sometime."

Azula considered. "I might speak with her." She recalled the first part of the proposal. "What did you mean by 'kind of' why you wanted to talk to me?"

"I like your face." Zirin replied both annoying Azula, and making her feel better about her own flirting skills. "So I figured that I'd talk to you and find out if I like the rest of you."

Curiosity got the best of her, "and?"

Zirin drummed her fingers on the bed. "Still trying to decide. I still like your face though." She smirked. Her stare fell from the face in question to the blood dripping from Azula's knuckles. "You do that yourself?"

"I might have."

"Shit, they would have bound me up real good." Zirin took Azula's hand. Once again, Azula was captured by how inconsiderate the girl's manners were. She stroked the top of Azula's hand. "It doesn't hurt does it?"

"You ask too many questions and don't answer enough."

"That's because you only asked something like two questions. And by all means, I answered all two of them." She walked over to Azula's nightstand, plucked one of her hair ribbons, and tied it around her bleeding hand.

"I was going to use that." Azula scoffed.

"You're not supposed to have them anyways." Zirin remarked.

"I'm—"

"'The princess, they can't tell me what to do.' I figured as much." After adjusting her work, Zirin brought Azula's hand to her lips.

"What are you doing?!"

"Isn't that what nobility do when they're trying to court someone, kiss their hands?" Zirin asked.

"Now you care about formality?" Azula grumbled.

"Not really I just wanted to kiss your hand because I like that too. It's soft." She locked eyes with Azula and shoved her hands into her pockets.

Azula wasn't quite sure how to take that. She wasn't quite sure how to take any of this. So instead she waited for Zirin to start yapping again, the girl seemed pretty good at that. But naturally, when she wanted her to pipe up, she had nothing left to vocalize. They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment and it set in that both of them seemed to have the same level of social skills.

Finally, looking as if she had decided somethining, Zirin spoke. "Hm, I like your face better, but guess you're alright." She caught sight of one of the nurses. "So I guess I'll come back tomorrow." Before Azula could protest the company, Zirin was pulled away by the nurse, who had apparently been looking all over for her.

Azula supposed Zirin was decent enough. It certainly wasn't worth it to scream, 'don't do that' all the way down the hall. Anyhow, she wouldn't mind having someone to perhaps listen to her complain –if misery needed company, then so did madness.


End file.
